


Sweat

by marchingjaybird



Category: The Losers
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-08
Updated: 2010-09-08
Packaged: 2017-10-11 14:30:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/113447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marchingjaybird/pseuds/marchingjaybird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's hot. Really, really hot. And Cougar has ideas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweat

It's hot.

Really, really hot.

Really, really, fucking hot.

"Why are we here again?" he asks, not expecting an answer. And, surprise, he doesn't get one. Just a little flicker of dark eyes, a downward pull of the lips. Cougar can be surprisingly expressive, almost annoyingly so, when you know how to read him. And Jensen does, though sometimes he wishes he'd never bothered to learn those subtle expressions at all.

Cougar shifts a fraction of an inch in his chair. He's restless as well, staring at the window, occasionally even bothering to twitch the curtains aside to see onto the street below. They shut the factory down because of some equipment malfunction this afternoon. Screaming gears, yelling people, the ominous smell of burning plastic. It was a whole nine yards sort of deal, and they'd vamoosed, got some tacos from a vender on the street, downed a few beers and then… this.

"We can go do something," Jensen suggests, trying to move his mouth as little as possible. The room that he shares with Cougar – all they can afford on their combined shitty salaries – is stiflingly hot. Outside, granted, is even worse, but at least there are distractions outside. Women to look at. Men to look at. Music to listen to. In here, it's all silence and heat and the low, slow drone of flies.

Cougar levers himself out of the chair and goes to the mini fridge for a bottle of water. The fridge is a piece of shit, keeps its contents a few degrees over lukewarm, but in this heat even that is a blessing. He pops the top, drinks half the bottle in one go. "Save some for me, greedy," Jensen scolds, reaching out. Cougar's lips twist and he offers the bottle. It feels absolutely chilly in Jensen's hand and he purrs, rubs it across his face. He has to sit up to drink, and sweat rolls down his back, tickling as it trickles down his spine.

He doesn't notice Cougar watching until he feels breath against his belly, a cooling gust that makes him squirm in pleasure. "Don't do that," he mutters, pushing Cougar's head away. A hot tongue flicks out, gathering salty sweat from his skin, and Jensen looks down. There's a wicked light in Cougar's eyes, a lazy curl to his lips that Jensen knows all too well.

"No," he says, adamant. "It's way too hot."

Cougar's mouth finds his skin again, sharp teeth nipping, teasing a little trail down to the low-slung waistband of his shorts. His tongue swirls along the jut of Jensen's hipbone and, in spite of his better judgment, he tangles his fingers in Cougar's thick hair.

"You're a bad person," he murmurs, watching as Cougar's deft fingers work his button free. The sound of his zipper, clicking with agonizing slowness over each tooth, sends gooseflesh crawling up and down his arms. Stupid sexy Cougar. Always knows how to get what he wants. Jensen lifts his hips, kicking free of the shorts and sprawling naked on the sweat-soaked sheets. Cougar slithers onto the bed, straddling his hips.

"Where'd your clothes go?" Jensen demands. Cougar feeds two fingers into his own mouth, makes a show out of sucking them. Words die for a moment in Jensen's throat, an odd enough occurrence that he has to pause and give silent props to Cougar. _May you live to shut me up forever._ "Quit that. If I told Pooch you were like this, he'd laugh until his stomach ruptured, you know that?"

The wicked gleam in Cougar's eyes is all the answer he gets, and that wicked hand creeps around behind Cougar's back. Jensen watches him avidly, moaning a little at the bright flush in his cheeks, the twitch and flutter of Cougar's eyelids as he slips his fingers inside himself. Cougar bites his lip, curves the fingers of his free hand and scratches them across his own belly. He's kind of a show off, though Jensen suspects it's mostly for his benefit. There's always that touch of amusement, that flash of laughter in dark eyes that makes him think that Cougar is more bemused and aroused by Jensen's reactions than by his own show.

Which finishes abruptly, Cougar gasping softly as he withdraws the fingers. He looks expectantly down and Jensen holds up the lube, retrieved from its clever hiding place of Somewhere In The Covers through a desperate sort of fumble while he struggled to keep his eyes firmly on Cougar. This little magic trick earns him a wink, and then Cougar's slim fingers circle his prick, rubbing surprisingly cool lube up and down its length. He moans, pushing up into the touch. In spite of the heat, there's nothing like feeling Cougar's hands on him. He's deliciously, scandalously clever with them, and he teases for what feels like hours, long, slow strokes that have Jensen writhing and cursing and begging without shame.

When he judges Jensen sufficiently tortured, Cougar releases him, smacking him on the thigh and leaving the remnants of lube there. "Thanks," Jensen murmurs, sarcastic even as he grips Cougar's hips and guides him down. "Now I'll have to shower."

He pushes into Cougar in one smooth stroke, both of them gasping and shuddering at the sudden pleasure of it. It shouldn't feel as sinfully good as it does, hot and tight, and he should be disgusted or at least discomforted by the sweat that pours from his skin. The sight of Cougar above him, though, hands planted on his chest, eyes screwed closed in delirious concentration – well, that makes it all okay.

He grips Cougar's hips, guides him up and down, setting a slow, grinding pace. Sweat drips from Cougar's lips, his chin, the tip of his nose, and Jensen reaches up, wrapping long, dark hair around his fist and yanking Cougar down for a bruising kiss. They're both slick with it, heat and exertion and arousal turning this into some sort of battle for dominance. Not with each other – they know where they lie in relation to one another on _that_ scale – but with the weather. It's like holding up a middle finger to the guy who's about to shoot you. Ultimately pointless, but damn it feels good.

It's dark by the time they finish. Cougar throws back his head and shudders, clenching tight enough that Jensen follows right after him, his climax a lazy flush of pleasure through his exhausted body. Cougar, God bless his crazy little head, rolls to the side to lie on the tangled sheets, flushed and triumphant. Their fingers touch.

"That was good," Jensen croaks. Cougar slips off the bed and fetches more water. They drink in companionable silence, then, "You hungry?" Cougar shakes his head. There's a wickedness around his mouth again. Jensen sighs, lights a cigarette. He prods his dick and, to his surprise, it stirs. "I'll be damned."

Cougar crawls over to him, laps the sweat off of his neck. "Fine," Jensen says, blowing smoke through his nostrils. "But none of that _ay, papi_ shit this time, all right?" Cougar snorts, bites him. It's gonna be a long night.


End file.
